Thirteenth
by yumeniai
Summary: It's been fifty years, but Germany still can't let his brother go. Germany and the day when construction of the Berlin Wall started. Oneshot, no real pairings.


It's been fifty years. Fifty long years without those striking red eyes, laughing, groaning, screaming, being. Fifty years since they'd seen each other – if that brief glimpse could've been called _seeing_, anyway. That brief glimpse he had caught as his brother had been dragged away, their eyes locking for a single second before they disappeared from each other's lives … completely. When the wall had – finally, finally – came down, that had already marked the end. His death. He had never had a chance to thank his brother for protecting them, even when it hadn't been his duty to …

No, Ludwig couldn't accept it. He simply couldn't accept that his brother was gone, forever. That he was the cause of the death, however indirectly … it was unacceptable.

"Germany?"

He looked up, startled, and smiled thinly at Austria. "I am sorry. I was … lost in thought."

The other nodded, lips pursed. "The date …"

"Please. It's of no consequence. The current economy, however …"

He threw himself back into their discussion about what to do about Portugal, Italy, France … and tried, really tried, to forget.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Luddy!"<p>

Germany looked up from his papers with a start, eyes wildly darting around. But the room was empty, devoid of the monochrome energy that had once brightened his office like a strobe light. He sighed.

He wished that, just today, there was someone around that would tell him to take a break, to relieve him of thinking. Someone who would pull him from this stuffy room, to get him drunker than drunk, and to take his mind off what today actually was …

But wishing was futile, when all the others were so embroiled in their own affairs. Not even cheerful Italy was carefree at the moment, with their debts rising oh so high … Italy may be immature enough to impose on Germany in the middle of a crisis, but never let it be said that Germany would ever do the same.

"Luddy!"

That echo, from decades and decades ago, dissipated again, and Germany returned to his work.

Wishing for company from a busy person was futile. Wishing for a dead person's company was even more futile.

* * *

><p>He turned the corner, and caught sight of a mop of unruly white hair. A double take revealed an old man, leaning on a trolley as he crossed the road. The hair was so much shorter than East's, his back hunched, each wobbling step taken with care.<p>

He shook his head. If he could be confused with even such insignificant similarities, there was definitely something wrong.

He bit his lip and continued on his way to the café that he conducted informal meetings at. Hopefully, his current boss would already be waiting, unlike last time when something urgent had come up and Germany had been made to wait there for hours on end and miss out on half a day's worth of work. No, he wouldn't be able to stand that now. He needed something to occupy him with, to keep his mind off …

Yes, he needed to keep busy. He brightened slightly when he caught the unmistakable figure of his boss, already seated, and sped up just a fraction. There would be time for contemplation later. Now was business …

Half a century, half a century! It's been half a century, yet …

He shook his head. No use worrying about it now. He had to finish these papers, they were needed on Monday. Yes, work now, worthless worrying later. Useless thoughts had no place in his mind when he needed to focus on work.

Later …

* * *

><p>For the millionth time that day, Germany caught himself wandering. He sighed. His evening so far had been somewhat pleasant, finally giving in and meeting with the Italies for a quick meal before rushing home to finish his work. Despite his momentary loss of composure when he had rang them, North Italy had, at least, warmly welcomed him. The younger looking country was a bit worm around the edges, looking more exhausted than he had a mere week ago, but his pasta was just as delicious and South Italy's barbs were just as sharp. It was entertainment, and a distraction, but all too soon, all three had to return to more important matters.<p>

And Germany wished, just once, that he had taken up on Italy's offer all those decades ago, that offer of unceasing companionship closer than even the relationship either had with their brothers. But Germany was as duty bound back then as he was now, and had simply steered the conversation onto safer topics, disregarding that careless comment as just that. He had missed the flash of hurt in the other's eyes, and had only realized later – as South Italy punched him firmly in the jaw – that the other had been serious …

But that didn't matter anymore. It was a lost opportunity, akin to back then, when he could have pushed his brother away and taken the punishment himself. They were regrets, but they could never be more than that. He could never regain that lost opportunity. Just as he would never …

No, he mustn't think like that. He had to believe that one day, he would see him again. Even if it was like that time with Rome, that brief visit to Italy while the boy slept, he would be contented.

He shook his head. Enough dreaming, enough wishing. He stood up behind his desk, grabbed his keys, and slammed his door on his way out. Time to get thoroughly wasted on good German beer. If he had to think about this, he'd he smashed while he was at it. Moping alone was easier when drunk.

* * *

><p>"Another!"<p>

He slammed it back, again, relishing the taste. His tab was accumulating, but he hardly cared. It was one of the benefits of being a nation – unlimited access to money. The bartender probably wouldn't even remember that there was somebody sitting here, drinking him out of several barrels of his best, come morning …

"What, had enough already? Where's that tolerance we built up in you, huh? No, no, you're not smashed enough yet. Another, another!"

He gritted his teeth. Even as he was trying to hard to get smashed!

"Another!"

He slammed it back, barely breathing. There would be time for breathing later, now was a time of forgetting, even as his people mourned. They mourned, and sure, he mourned with them, but the pressing need now was to forget. He couldn't stand remembering anymore …

"Another!"

* * *

><p>He didn't know how he ended up in her arms, a human, hair and eyes just as blond as his, but so frail, so thin. His muddled mind focused only on the feel of her body against his, her softness, her willingness. He knew that she would forget why she had a significant amount of cash with her come morning, but at the moment, he simply didn't care.<p>

He lost himself in sensation.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Luddy!"<p>

He blinked, blearily, but the woman had left long ago, and he was alone, with a pounding headache no less. He sighed.

The call came again, but there was nobody around to sustain it. It dissipated, like all the previous calls.

"Damn it!"

Clenching his teeth, he trembled for a second, before finally giving in.

Two rivulets of warmth trickled down his cheeks, dripping onto his tight fists. There were no sobs, only a continuous stream, and a keening wail that split the night air.

"Damn it …"

His fault, his fault, his fault, his fault …

His brother was gone. And there was nothing he could do about it. There had been nothing he could do about it for the past fifty years, and he was damned if he could change it now.

But his grief hadn't lessened over the years. And like every year since that day, he gave into his emotions.

And stayed that way, even as the birds gave their first cries, even as the sky lightened with approaching dawn.

"Dammit …"

_**Owari**_.

* * *

><p>AN: And many people will think, what the heck was that. Yeah, I don't believe that poor Gilbert's 'New Prussia' or anything of that sort – that's part of Canada, and that's that. Or rather, that's how it goes in this verse. And as (yesterday) was the day the Berlin Wall was first started, well …

It's not enough to say it was a horrific thing. But this is my take on Germany's reaction to it, as Prussia is his brother and all … the one who took care of him from when he was a brat until he could stand on his own.

You'll notice the lack of Germany/Italy here. Or rather, the hint of 'what could have been, but never was'. I wanted him to be alone to angst :D. Usually, I like that pairing, but it wouldn't have fit here, so …

Anyway, hoped you enjoyed the angst overload. Sorry it's not better written, no proofreading went into this at all (haha). Just a quick job, under an hour of almost solid typing.

Thank you for reading!


End file.
